Good Advice
by Killer Moth
Summary: Paranoia coda. Jack both asks and receives relationship advice from an old friend.


Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films.

Author's Note: This ficlet was originally a 2008 exclusive for the All Things Waterston messageboard. After a recent re-discovery, via my hard drive, I decided to modify and cross-post on the usual fanfiction sites. Enjoy.

Timeline: "Good Advice" takes place the night following the events of "Paranoia."

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A lanky gray-haired gentleman was by the counter of a smoky bar. He focused on a nearby clock, while sipping a scotch tumbler.

"Jack, do you always eyeball timepieces while you're drinking? Did you learn nothing from Big Red?" said a perky female voice.

"Big Red threw them out, so I'm making up for lost time — pun not intended. How are you, Shelly?"

The speaker, a slender blonde woman, edged herself beside him. "Other than wondering about your lovely scotch obsession, I'm right as rain."

He tilted his head. "You're such a wordsmith."

"If I ever quit the business, I'll write Danielle Steel-type novels." She signaled the bartender.

Jack smirked. "Your books would be better reading than my usual fare."

"Read them in the bathroom and measure your stay — that's the true test of a writer. So, paperback romances aside, why did you call me here?"

"I thought I'd treat you, since this was our toughest case. After all, it's rare to have prosecutors and defense attorneys collude together." He raised his glass near her.

Shelly shrugged a shoulder. "Don't get melodramatic. Next time, let's brood inside the Four Seasons."

"Unfortunately, I possess a small budget, unlike some people."

"Don't blame me, because of your fabulous salary." She then nodded at the approaching server. "Screwdriver, please."

He rolled his eyes. "Screwdriver? You weakling."

She waved her hand freely. "What, I feel fruity, tonight."

"You're not the only one."

She tipped forward. "I bet. As much as I like commiserating, an ulterior motive is clearly afoot. Seriously, what is the real reason you summoned me?"

He tilted his head. "I never could fool you, Shelly. Okay, I require female advice, which must be addressed in person."

She blinked rapidly. "Female advice? You constantly amaze me, Jack."

"I try. Anyhow, there's a little conflict on my hands."

She knitted her brow. "How about reading Cosmo and its many sex tips?"

"I'd rather go straight to the source."

"And that's me, eh? Is this involving your new assistant, what's-her-name? Sorry if I've bent the lady out of shape."

Jack's eyelid twitched. "Heaven forbid I speak hypothetically?"

She clucked her tongue. "You know me better than that."

"Fine, what's the best way to assuage someone when her confidence is, ah, lowered?"

"Encourage them? Talk to them? This is a no brainer."

"C'mon, I can't easily express myself in personal terms — it's just not me, Shelly." He extended his palms.

"While you shouldn't become a weeping willow, women do prefer a self-aware male."

His Adam's apple bounced. "Define self-aware."

"You know what it means. My husband taught me the subject, a long time ago, which is why I bang my head onto pillows instead of walls." She grasped his forearm lightly.

"Lucky girl."

"Yes, I am. May I ask how long you have been dating her?"

He stroked his chin. "We officially started, a few weeks ago. The passion is definitely there, until our mutually strong tempers come into play."

Shelly interlaced her fingers. "Blowing up occasionally is all right, except when it comes to the actual relationship. If you use it as foreplay, then you might be in big trouble."

He ingested a dram of scotch. "No kidding."

"Stuff happens, Jack, including the regrettable kind. Assuming you two are on the same page or whatever, certain problems can be fixable."

He toyed with his ring. "Honestly, I'm not sure. She wanted to be alone, so I opted for your cheap advice, tonight."

Her upper lip curled inward. "My cheapest advice is, 'why are you yapping to me?' If she doesn't realize your true intentions, make them clear. Meanwhile, I'll savor the lovely screwdriver that you paid for."

He proffered a ten-dollar bill, via his shirt pocket. "You drive a hard bargain."

"The love consultant needs her fee."

He pecked her cheek. "Thank you. Got some last minute advice?"

"Yeah, pick your battles and avoid any work-based debates during your alone time. Hopefully, Big Red taught you why the latter is a bad idea, et cetera, et cetera."

His lip quivered. "But work is my only shtick."

Shelly did a headshake. "You're deeper than you let on, Jack. There's always root rot, particleboard or the square root of the isosceles triangle for topic fodder."

"Did I mention you're a wordsmith, lately?"

"You're stalling. Go discuss root rot with her, already."

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Enjoy your drink." Jack dashed toward the exit.

"For a ladies' man, he knows little about them," she muttered.

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Reviews of any sort are welcome.


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